


Eggnog and Cigarettes

by stuckinabottle



Series: Bedroom Talk [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Divorce, Drug Use, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinabottle/pseuds/stuckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and Zayn receives an unexpected visit from an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggnog and Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> Have a slightly Merry Christmas!  
> As a part of the Bedroom Talk series---slightly sad out of order snapshots of Zayn and Harry's relationship.

 

 

* * *

 

Harry pounded heavily on the door. The snow was wet and slick coming down, coating the roads. It caught in his hair and melted, leaving him chilly. He shivered and knocked again, but no one answered. Jiggling the handle, he nearly swore at how cold the brass was, but was relieved to see that the door creaked open.

 

The house smelled horrible, a combination of marijuana, nicotine, alcohol, and something rotting. The harsh smell of antiseptic and fake pine tree assaulted him with the next step he took into the foyer. It was pitch black save for the fading orange glow of a dying cigarette. 

 

"Who's there?" a sleep laden voice croaked. Harry heard something being knocked over and then a scattering of objects.

 

The lights flickered on. Harry shielded his eyes. Zayn looked terrible. His eyes were sunken in and bloodshot, skin sallow, cheeks hollowed. A week or more worth of I groomed scruff adorned his cheeks, his hair was flat, limp and greasy. He wore baggy joggers and an awful jumper, which had all sorts of pulls and knots in it. He rubbed his eyes quizzically, staring at Harry.

 

"Harry? Is that you? What the fuck are you doing here?" Zayn nearly barked. 

 

"I was around, so I thought I would stop in," Harry mustered. He held up the brown bag in his right hand, clearly liquor of some kind. "Eggnog?"

 

Zayn didn't say anything. He just lit up a cigarette. "Seriously though, what the fuck?" he murmured in between drags.

 

"Umm," Harry racked his brain for an answer. 

 

Zayn current held his face in his hands, massaging his temples. He threw himself back onto the couch. That's when Harry noticed the room was in a state of serious disarray. The light cream colored carpet was smudged with dirt, the couch cushions disheveled. More than a few of ash trays were littered around the room, the butts of cigarettes filling them. A few empty hard liquor bottles were knocked over, and a vaporizer lay on the heavily stained, glass coffee table, which also had an assortment of take away containers on it.

 

"I heard what happened. Are you alright? Is everything okay?" Harry asked tentatively.

 

Zayn glared at him blearily and scoffed, "Heard or read? 'M not sure what's worse. You still haven't said why you're here."

 

"That's what I thought," Zayn laughed bitterly, "Come to pity? Come to have a laugh at the burnt out pop star, have you?"

 

"No. I just wanted..." Harry began but can't finish. He edged his way towards Zayn, perching on the arm of the couch. Zayn looked horrible. Wrung out, worn down. Worse than he ever did even after a grueling world tour.

 

"Come, let's get you cleaned up, shall we? Let me make you feel better," Harry reached out to grab Zayn, who to his surprise did not protest. Harry gathered Zayn into his arms. Even though he was a dead weight in Harry's arms, he was much too light, with too many bones poking out where they shouldn't.

 

"Why are you here? You still never answered my question." Zayn asked into Harry's neck, as Harry half dragged half carried him up the stairs. He plopped Zayn down once they reach the top, trying to remember where the master bath is. He did, and then hauled Zayn there. He began to run a bath of scalding hot water. 

 

Harry coaxed Zayn slowly out of his clothing. He helped Zayn to shrug off his ragged jumper and the ratty t-shirt underneath, and allowed Zayn to remove his own joggers, then pants. Harry looked away when he did so. He thought he heard Zayn snort.

 

Testing the bath water temperature with his elbow, Harry deemed it acceptable. He rustled Zayn to his feet and ushered him into the bath tub. Zayn hissed as the water settled around him, but visibly his muscles relaxed when he finally laid back in the tub. His face was lax, mouth open in a soundless sigh as the warm water enveloped him.

 

"Why do you still have a tree, if you don't mind me asking?" Harry squeezed ample shampoo into his palm. He lathered it with his other hand and began massaging it into Zayn's grease laden scalp. Zayn released a guttural moan, deep reverberating off the tile walls of the bathroom.

 

"Ahh, that old thing? My housekeeper put it up." 

 

"But..."

 

"I know what you think, but Jana came over today. She likes Christmas. Perrie came too." 

 

"Is it as bad as they made it out to be?" Harry never asked when the divorce actually happened. He was too preoccupied.

 

"Nah," Zayn waved a hand, "It wasn't bad until she won full custody in the settlement. Did you know my smoking was one of the biggest reasons? Or maybe it was because I'm a terrorist right? Funny, innit? The shit that comes to bite you in the arse."

 

They sat in silence for a while. It was comfortable though. They had fallen back into their old routine fairly quickly. Harry traced the edges of some of Zayn's newer tattoos, ones that he had never seen before, ones that the press hadn't hounded him about. Zayn's eyes were closed, bruises from lack of sleep or too much of it marred the edges of his eyes. 

 

"Would you take it back? Would you take it all back if you could?" Harry asked, he wasn't sure whether the question was meant for himself or Zayn.

 

"No, I think I love Jana too much," Zayn whispered. Harry didn't say anything for a while. 

 

"C'mon let's get you into some clean clothes, you're going to get pruny," Harry hooked his arms under Zayn's armpits.

 

Harry wrapped Zayn into one of his fluffy bathrobes, and tied the sash. They went to Zayn's bedroom, where Zayn promptly collapsed onto the giant bedspread. 

 

"Zayn?" 

 

"Mhmm?"

 

"I think I might take it back."

 

Zayn snorted, then began to laugh. A laugh with more body than Zayn could ever afford. He sounded young again if only for a moment.

 

"You? Not famous? You couldn't do it." 

 

"No," Harry says slowly, "Not that. Not the fame. You know what I'm talking about."

 

"I'm not a mind reader. And honestly I haven't spent enough time with you recently...to know what you mean Harry," Zayn mumbled into the comforter. Harry was now laying down on his back beside him, staring at the ceiling. Harry looked over, Zayn was staring at Harry. 

 

"I'm sorry about us." 

 

"Hah, well you're a few years too late for that," Zayn laughed. Harry rolled onto his side, creeping closer to Zayn. Positioning his elbow beneath him, he held up his head with a hand.

 

"You know, I did love you. I do love you." 

 

Zayn frowned, and sort of glared at Harry. He exhaled and rotated onto his side too.

 

"You sure had a funny way of showing it." Zayn tucked an errant curl of Harry's hair behind his ear. He kept his hand on Harry's cheek. His thumb followed Harry's dimples and brushed his bottom lip.

 

"When did we get so old?" 

 

Harry shrugged and leaned further into Zayn's touch. "Do you think it's too late to try again?" 

 

 "I don't know. Let me sleep on it." Zayn gave a little smile. He pressed a gentle kiss to Harry's lips, as if it were a promise.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> :)  
> i forgot to post this earlier even though i wrote it in november oops


End file.
